Having a Purpose
by Aleera Frostbyte Lestrange
Summary: Re-upload and edited. Rogue-centric! Alternate ending to X2. Rogue takes Jean's place as the hero. Sequel is 'Bliss of Touch'. Read and Review!
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I don't own the X-Men, as much as I hope and dream I could.**

 **AN2: This is an edited update. I felt that I could make it better, so I pulled an all-nighter and produce this. Original upload - June 6th, 2015. Edited update - August 14th, 2015.**

 **AN3: Should I do another chapter showing Rogue's funeral?**

* * *

Panic. It was the dominant emotion that raged through her body. Panic over the oncoming wall of water - Rogue was sure that death was iminent, Death's cold fingers ready to pluck out her soul.

Turning back to the chaos, Rogue watched helplessly. Cyclops and Storm were trying to pilot the Blackbird, whilst Wolverine and Nightcrawler secured the rescued mutants into seats. And Jean stood motionless at the side of the cockpit. _Why isn't she doing anything?!_ Rogue thought.

The red-head backed away from the controls, a look of determination set on her face. Her space immediately filled by Cyclops. Back rigid, Jean limped towards the bay-doors. Rogue realised what was happening. _Jean's going to lift the jet and die,_ Rogue thought, _why does it have to be her?_

Since arriving at the Xavier Mansion, Rogue felt more connected to people. Yet, she still felt useless - compared to the X-Men, she was just a leeching parasite. Extreme scenarios had played over in her mind, each ending in the death of Jean Grey - her mutation useless to help.

A single scenario stuck in her mind. Her own sacrifice, she couldn't see the ending of her own scenario. Rogue thought of how many people loved Jean: Cyclops, Storm, Logan - the list went on. Rogue's own list consisted of no-one. No-one to miss her, mourn her, or ever truly love her. In that split second, she made her decision. Jean was an essential member of the X-Men, whilst she wasn't even a part of the team.

Sneakily, Rogue approached Jean. Slipping off a glove, she placed her hand on Jean's neck - the task made easier by the older woman's short hair. Jean never had the chance to fight back, as her powers were taken. She dropped like a stone. No-one noticed in the panic - the senior X-Men trying to get the Blackbird in the air; Bobby comforting Kitty. _They look good together_ , Rogue thought. Now was her chance.

Summoning Jean's telekinesis, Rogue levitated to the shaking snow outside the jet. The bay-door closed behind her, preventing anyone from following her. Putting distance between herself and the Blackbird, Rogue controlled Jean's voice - to explain.

* * *

 _ **Inside the jet -**_

"Where's Rogue?" Kitty asked aloud, genuinely concerned for her missing friend. None of the adults heard her. Looking around, the petite brunette began searching for Jean - maybe she knew where Rogue was. Chaos broke loose.

Storm turned round to see Jean's limp body on the floor, the bay-door shut. She screamed, running to her friend's side. Jean's eyes snapped open, a milky film over the warm colour. The voice that came from her mouth was not her own - it was that of Rogue.

"Ah'm not useless anymore. Ah can help. Jean's more important to the team than Ah am. It's the only way..." The mantra repeated once more, before Jean regained control of her body - her eyes becoming green once again.

Wolverine was at a loss. Rogue was like a daughter; to hear her say that she wasn't important struck his heart. Desperation overtook him, he attempted to run to the bay-doors. Cyclops hurried to restrain him; slightly taken aback when the feral mutant collapsed broken in his arms, tears of a broken man in his eyes.

"Nightcrawler, get her!" Cyclops yelled. The teleporter concentrated for a few seconds before delivering the heartbreaking realisation - "she von't let me!" The professor's voice rang out in the chaos. "She is gone..."

* * *

 _ **Outside the Jet -**_

Rogue cut the connection with Jean, tears in her eyes. _They don't need me_ , she repeated in her head as she tried to keep the tears at bay. Now she understood why her mother had claimed that 'goodbye' was the hardest word to say - it felt like a blow through the heart. In her mind's eye, she saw inpenetrable chaos. The reality of her decision sunk in - the realisation that she wouldn't be going back to the mansion, her home. The X-Men had become her family. _People do crazy things when their family is in danger, right?_ Rogue reasoned with herself, focusing on remaining calm.

Reaching out, Rogue began lifting the Blackbird - the water racing towards her, like a stampede of wild horses. _There will be others more important that need guidance, you can't linger on a lost cause, Professor,_ knowing that he could hear her - even if Jean couldn't. No verbal response came, only a feeling of understanding.

The crashing wall of water was practically on top of her, but she needed more time. Erecting a blockade, the water diverted the mutant and the Blackbird. Water sprayed at her, small debris scratched at her cheeks - but it wouldn't distract her. Rogue continued to raise the ship, re-align the wings and engine. A harsh reality sunk in - Rogue was really going to die. The heroine was going to die.

The sound of engines alerted her to the hardest word she could say. Now came that moment, the moment she had been preparing herself for - letting go. Rogue could feel her hold on Jean's powers waning. More water sprayed at her; a large rock hit her leg. There was no time for one last goodbye. There was only one thing Rogue could do. She had to let go.

So she did. Dark water crashed around her body. When some people die, their lives flash before their eyes. For Rogue, it was different - she thought of her regrets. She never got to thank the X-Men for everything they had done for her; would never see the smiling faces of her family again. Whilst Rogue proved that she wasn't as useless as she thought...she never felt that blow in her chest at that word, because she never got to say goodbye.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I don't own X-Men.**

 **AN2: This chapter focuses on the X-Men's reaction to Rogue's death, and her funeral with some unlikely attendants.**

* * *

Grief infected everyone, seeping into their hearts. Everyone grieved her. The southern girl who sat at the back of every class; a gentle soul with an unfortunate gift. Rogue's seat remained empty in class, no-one opting to sit there out of respect. In the few days since her death, classes were halted and tears wiped.

They all mourned in their own ways. Logan mourned by drinking and fighting - spending three days in the Danger Room. Jean sobbed in the Medical Bay, blaming herself. Scott buried himself in his work, and Ororo read through the lost girl's work - thinking all the potential she had in writing. Professor Xavier locked himself in his office, reflecting on the short time Rogue had been at the Mansion.

* * *

She received a funeral on the mansion's grounds. A memorial was erected in Rogue's honour. White marble contrasted with the lush green grass. The sun shone brilliantly and the virescent colour of the spring day under it's glare was offensively bright and cheerful. It was as if the sun had conspired with the earth, to show how the world would go on without her. It was a cruel reality. Everything should be grey and foggy; it should be cold and damp with silent air.

Mutants gathered for her funeral. Students struggled to understand the events of Alkali Lake, they only knew that Rogue had a hidden strength that people drew on - she made people better. Kitty and Bobby tried explaining it, but tears prevented the ending to be shared. Younger mutants struggled to understand the loss. They didn't cry, naively insisting that she was playing hide-and-seek. Adults stood stoic, tears dried up, as silent pillars of strength. Logan stood off to the side, away from other mourners, tears on his cheeks.

Mourning wasn't restricted to just the X-Men. Truces were called. On the morn of the funeral, the sight of Magneto and his Brotherhood entering the grounds was met. Pyro was amongst them. Friends and foes grieved together. Magneto and Mystique each placed a hand on Xavier's shoulder. Pyro embracing Bobby as his tears fell. Sabretooth stood by his brother, no words or looks passing between them.

The funeral began with Ororo reciting a line from Rogue's favourite poem - Christina Rossetti's 'Up-hill Struggle'. " _Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end_ _ **.**_ Rogue understood this more than anyone her own age, and yet, she continued to thrive."

The weather witch moved back to her spot, and one by one, people shared their fondest memories of Rogue. There was a broad spectrum of memories. Kitty spoke of the pillow fights they had; a young student spoke of Rogue's help in teaching her to read. A few students spoke of her kindess, how she would give them ice cream and how she would teach them new games. Scott spoke of Rogue's insistance to help in any situation; while Mystique complimented toward her fighting style.

Pyro stood up by the empty casket, tears already running down his cheeks. "Rogue was my best friend. I guess you could say, she was my sister. We kept giving the kids all the ice cream in the summer before dinner," the pyromanic smiled slightly at the memory, "I can't imagine life without her, I was going to stay in contact with her - but I can't now. That's what hurts the most."

Silence fell. Everyone smiling tearfully at their memories. The smooth wood beckoned for Logan stepped forward. Placing his hand on the empty casket, he reminisced his favourite memories of Rogue.

"For a tiny kid, you were stubborn as hell. But we wouldn't have had you any other way. I'm gonna miss you, Little Marie," Logan whispered, using his secret nickname for her. He only used it when they had trained together, even though she hated the name. Pulling his dogtags from around his neck, he laid them on the casket - before trailing his hand down the smooth wood as he walked away. Logan didn't look back as he left the funeral.

* * *

Lasting long into the evening, Rogue's memorial came to a quiet end. Her white marble headstone had been swamped by pictures, flowers and small tokens. Lilac irises and yellow lilies glared at the mourners, the bright colours contrasted with the sorrowful atmosphere.

The mass of people separated, leaving the grounds and entering the mansion. Stories continued to be shared, drinks raised in toasts to honour her sacrifice. Slowly, children were tucked in for bed, people walked back to their rooms. Rogue's memory would live on at the mansion, forever etched in hearts, and on the landscape.

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 **AN3: This is the last chapter for Having a Purpose. Hope you liked the edit, and will read the sequel - Bliss of Touch.**


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